The countess replied, "Heaven grant I may soon return the welcome in my own house, Sir James."
"Though I am a Hamilton?" replied the knight, with a smile.
"Oh, yes; for these dire feuds begin to weary me."
"Ah! old fox," muttered the castellan under his beard; "because thy nose is below the water now. Had we lost, and the Douglases won the battle of Linlithgow," said he, with a smile, "I doubt much if the feud had been tiresome to the Lady Ashkirk."
"She had not been here to-day," replied the countess; "but how—what does this mean?" she added, with some asperity, on seeing that two soldiers, in obedience to a sign from Barncleugh, crossed their pikes before Sabrino, to prevent his entering the tower.
"It means, madam, that this black thing, quhilk in visage so closely resembles the promoter of all evil, cannot enter here."
"Sir James of Barncleugh," said the Albany herald, interposing, "he is the countess's page."
"Page! ugh! I like not to look upon him. I would do much for thee, John of Darnagaber, who art mine own natural-born clansman, and more for the widow of gallant Earl John of Ashkirk (a Seton and Douglas man though he was), but, by my holy dame! this black devil, whom I have no order to receive, shall not enter the tower of Inchkeith, that is flat!"
"Sir James Hamilton," said the countess, with dignity, "do be merciful, and spare us the humiliation of entreaty. This poor black boy is faithful and gentle, kind and attached to me as a spaniel, and assuredly he will die if separated from me; for he is, I know, an object of abhorrence to the ignorant and the vulgar."
At this remark, which was unintentional, the commander of the island gave her a furious look, and cocked his bonnet over his right eye.